Emboldened by his insensibility, Leonard cautiously opened the pocketbook, and his eyes glistened when he saw tucked away in one side, quite a thick roll of bills.
“He won’t miss one bill,” thought Leonard. “Anyone else might take the whole wallet, but I wouldn’t do that. I wonder how much money there is in the roll.”
He darted another glance at the prostrate form, but there seemed no danger of interruption. He took the roll in his hand, therefore, and a hasty scrutiny showed him that the bills ran from ones to tens. There must have been nearly a hundred dollars in all.
“Suppose I take a five,” thought Leonard, whose cupidity increased with the sight of the money. “He won’t miss it, and it will be better in my hands than if spent for whiskey.”
How specious are the arguments of those who seek an excuse for a wrong act that will put money in the purse!
“Yes, I think I may venture to take a five, and, as I might not be able to change it right away, I will take a one to send for a ticket. Then I will put the wallet back in the man’s pocket.”
So far, all went smoothly, and Leonard was proceeding to carry out his intention when, taking a precautionary look at the man on the ground, he was dumfounded by seeing his eyes wide open and fixed upon him.
Leonard flushed painfully, like a criminal detected in a crime, and returned the look of inquiry by one of dismay.
“What—you—doing?” inquired the victim of inebriety.
“I—is this your wallet, sir?” stammered Leonard.